


House Of Cards

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Mötley Crüe, The Dirt (2019)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Blood and Violence, Crying, Death Threats, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Guilt, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Night Terrors, Past Child Abuse, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Harm, Sexual Content, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:29:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26538118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: It was just a party.(And it ended in a nightmare.)Tommy blames himself.(He should've paid more attention)Vince is murderous.(There will be no body left to bury.)Mick is worried.(He's trying to keep them all together.)Nikki is solemn.(Why was he such a whore?)
Relationships: Mick Mars/Nikki Sixx, Nikki Sixx/Original Male Character(s), Tommy Lee & Vince Neil
Comments: 102
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story contains some dark themes, most of which is featured here. Read at your own risk.

**2:30 AM**

They were at a party. 

Nikki didn't recognize anybody except his own bandmates, a sea of faces that seemed unfamiliar and distant in a sea of darkness. The lights had been dimmed, and it was hard to discern _what_ from _who_ as the night went on. 

They'd split up shortly after entering the house. Nikki was usually fine off by his lonesome- nobody to tell him to calm down with the cocaine, after all- but now he could feel someone watching him. 

It wasn't a simple case of paranoia. 

**2:35 AM**

The alcohol was beginning to take effect, Nikki knew. He could feel his limbs begin to grow heavy, and his eyesight was beginning to grow hazy. 

Walking was an endeavor that seemed fruitless, and would end only in pain if Nikki continued, so he sat down on an empty couch and took a few deep breaths. 

Something didn't feel right. 

**2:40 AM**

Faces began to blend together, becoming identical. 

Voices were too loud. 

Nikki wanted Mick, like a child who wanted his mother, except Nikki had never wanted his mother with such an aching, fearful desperation that began to take hold of him at that moment. Something was definitely wrong, and he didn't want to be alone. Mick always seemed bigger than he truly was, a protector that Nikki needed but never spoke about, always there to chase away the demons. 

But just as he thought that, the couch sunk with the weight of a body sitting down beside his own. 

**2:42 AM**

All of his instincts told Nikki to run, but his legs didn't want to cooperate with him at that moment, and so he instead focused on moving his head, hoping-no, _praying,_ that it was somebody that he knew. That it was Vince, Tommy, Mick, who had sat down beside him, and not some stranger. 

But the man was unfamiliar, and his face looked fuzzy, like he was on television and the producers had blurred his face out to protect his privacy. Nikki swallowed thickly, and with all his might, attempted to stand, leave the situation, anything. But the man reached out, and grabbed Nikki's wrist in an iron-tight grip. 

The man pulled Nikki down onto the couch again. 

**2:43 AM**

"Well, now." The man said, his voice thick with a southern accent, tilting his head close so that he could whisper and not be overheard by the nearby people. "That's rude, ain't it? Just leavin' like that." He sounded amused, despite the words. 

Nikki scowled, and went to pull away, but the man was strong, and his grip remained. "Let me go, now." Nikki said, but his voice was faint and far-away, his tongue heavy. Black spots danced in front of his vision, but Nikki blinked them away. 

The man clicked his tongue. "Little spitfire, ain't you?" He said. 

Annoyance began to form, and so did irritation. Nikki wrenched his wrist free and pulled away, but seemed to lose his balance as he did so. 

**2:46 AM**

The couch fell away, and the ground, hard and cold, became the new place to be. Nikki fell with a grunt, startled, but not lucid enough to truly be shocked. He fell against somebody's legs, and they turned, obviously intent on finding out who had just fell onto them. 

For a single moment, brief and fast, hope seemed imminent. But then it all seemed to disappear when the man smiled, exposing his yellowed teeth. " _Whoop-sie."_ He said with an exaggerated laugh, obviously playing it up. "Kyle, honey, you have to be more careful." 

Nikki's heart dropped at the name, the acting, the pure fact that this was really happening. He wanted to say something, anything, move or stand, but his limbs felt thick and heavy like lead has been attached to them by ropes. 

The man who he'd fallen into grunted, and moved away. "Fucking faggots." He said, low and disgusted.

The slur reminded Nikki of Mick, and it made his heart ache. 

And then he disappeared, as if the darkness has swallowed him whole.

**2:48 AM**

"You getting' tired, Kyle?" The man said, leaning foward, his hands resting on his knees. There was a deep amusement in his tone, like this was all done game. "You wanna go upstairs?" 

Nikki couldn't talk. He didn't know if it was some distorted fear that was keeping him tongue-tied, or if it was something else. The only thing that Nikki could get himself to do was shake his head, and move backwards just a little bit more. 

There were other people at the party, but they are all either drunk or drugged up and probably didn't even see what was happening. Nikki didn't know where his friends were, and even if he did, then they probably far, far away. They wouldn't be any help unless one of them, by pure chance, decided to come searching. 

The chance of that happening was pretty slim, and Nikki knew that. 

With a lecherous grin, the man stood, and in a single quick movement that seemed almost natural, he grabbed Nikki by the arm and pulled him up so forcefully that the distant sting registered in Nikki's hazy mind. 

Nikki could feel his heart lurch in panic, fear. He immediately fought out of pure instinct, elbowing the man, and succeeding in getting the grip to loosen up before the man snarled and something sharp pressed up against the small of Nikki's back painfully. "Don't fucking pull anything, Sixx. One wrong move, that's all it takes." 

**2:55 AM**

They headed up the rickety stairs, careful and slow. Nikki was trying to formulate a plan through the thick fog in his head, weary of getting paralyzed but also not wanting what he knew very well was about to happen. 

There were several bedrooms, but only a few doors were open. The first one that was available was the one that was their ultimate destination, and the man shoved Nikki foward before turning to close and lock the door behind him. 

Nikki tripped over his feet and fell with a grunt, but he didn't waste any time in trying to get up. He got halfway to his knees before scarred fingers curled around the back of his neck, and breathe began to puff against Nikki's ear as a warning seemed to slither out, like a demented snake. "Don't even think about it, Sixx." The man growled.

**2:56 AM**

Nikki prided himself on his ability to get himself out of tricky situations, whether it be with his fists or with his words, but it appeared that his ability wasn't going to help. 

The man was bigger, stronger, his bulk pressing down on Nikki, suffocating him. His fingers were blunt and forceful, digging into sensitive flesh as he grabbed Nikki and forced him down into the bed. 

"Don't make this harder than this has to be." The man warned, but there had never been a time in Nikki's life where he ever listened, and so he fought without a single care. 

Nikki kneed the man in his stomach, knocking the breathe out of his attacker, but it only worked for a second. The man grunted, forced back a little by the bony knee being shoved into him, and then regained his focus, blinking wildly. The man reeled back, still trying to regain his breathe, and punched Nikki in the face. 

A red-hot pain seemed to explode in Nikki's face, bright sparks of heat, lights dancing in the darkness. 

The temporary break from the fighting enabled the man to flip Nikki over onto his stomach, and like a magician pulling a white rabbit from his hat, the man procured a pair of handcuffs and managed to cuff one of Nikki's wrists, pulling it taut until the metal scraped painfully against bone, and then attached the other side to one of the bedposts. 

The sound of the handcuffs clicking shut was ominous, and final. 

**3:00**

Memories. 

Childhood. 

Lecherous grins and harsh fingertips. 

Nikki squeezed his eyes shut, barely able to breathe. "Don't do this. I haven't fucking done a thing to you- don't do this to me, you bastard." 

Perhaps it wasn't the brightest thing, to say such things to the man who was about to rape you, but Nikki had always been the one who cursed instead of cried, and begging wasn't in his vocabulary. But the words only seemed to amuse the man, who chuckled. 

The man proceeded to take off Nikki's boots and toss them somewhere onto the floor, where they thumped harshly on the wood, echoing through the house. And then he began to work at Nikki's pants, somehow managing to strip him off that last barrier despite the protests that were partially muffled by the bed, and those desperate attempts to fight. 

"You're so pretty, Nikki." The man crooned, as the sound of him undoing his zipper seemed to emanate through the whole room, sudden and expected but terrible all the same. "So, so pretty." He said softly. 

Nikki tried to keep his face from being pressed against the sheet, his breaths harsh and haggard. "Shut up." He said. 

**3:06 AM**

The man slapped him upside the head, but it wasn't an entirely unfamilair feeling. 

Nikki grit his teeth, but the attempted stoicism was broken when the man positioned himself atop of Nikki with a sort of nonchalance and experience that suggested he'd done this before. Nikki was pressed against the bed, his lungs constricting as he struggled to force breathe into his lungs. 

"Maybe, if you stopped fightin' and smartin' off so much, you could enjoy this, too." The man said, like that was even in the realm of possibilities. 

**3:07 AM**

There was a part, distant and vague, of Nikki that was afraid of diseases. 

It was ridiculous to think about such a think at that moment, but he was attempting to distract himself of what was about to happen. 

And then the man pushed in, and all of those thoughts went flying out the window. 

Nikki screamed into the mattress. 

**3:08 AM**

When Nikki was a child, he experienced pain plenty. It was a daily occurrence, whether it be in a splinter from climbing the old stairs without shoes or being shoved into a wall by a man who was much older and much stronger than he was. 

As he grew older, the pain subsided somewhat. Nikki left home, and besides from the bi-weekly fights that occurred every so often, there was nothing to fear, even if Nikki was programmed after years of abuse to automatically flinch when somebody went to touch him. 

People were cruel creatures, Nikki had learned. They didn't care about anybody but themselves, and they hurt needlessly, without feeling the slightest bit sorry about what they were doing. 

Nikki had learned this as a mere child, and was relearning it now.

He was sorry to have lived at all. 

But through it all, Nikki's only real coherent thoughts were of Mick, and how disappointed and disgusted he was going to be, how hurt that he was going to be, without doubt. Nikki loved Mick with a sort of desperate sincerity that seemed all-consuming, and hated to see him hurt, all because of Nikki. 

Mick was going to hate Nikki, and there was nothing that could be done about it besides whimper and scream into the mattress as the man tore into Nikki without a single care in the fucking world. 

**3:20 AM**

Pain, everywhere. 

Nikki's face hurt, his stomach hurt, his back hurt, his arms and legs hurt, his abdomen and groin hurt. His wrist hurt from all the pulling that had been done, the skin rubbed raw when the cold, harsh metal of the handcuff scraped against flesh and bone. 

And with that pain, came a cold humiliation. 

The man was still there, but he was out of sight, unseen, cleaning himself up. Nikki could hear him humming, and somewhere in his brain, the song registered as being one of his own, but Nikki couldn't figure out which. 

One little favor. 

"You're a nice little fuck." The man said cheerfully, like what had just transpired hadn't taken place. "All the pretty boys are." 

Nikki felt like throwing up, but tried to push the nausea away. 

The man sighed, and then walked over. He forced Nikki onto his back, twisting the handcuff's chain, holding something in his hand. 

A part of Nikki already knew what it was before the fingers curled back to reveal little blue pills. "Just take these." The man said. "And you can go to sleep." 

Nikki didn't even try to fight this time, his whole body ached and so much as breathing only aggravated it. He opened his mouth like an obedient puppy, and the man put the pills in. 

"Chew, and swallow." The man instructed. 

Nikki did as told, opening his mouth when prompted, lifting his tongue.

_Mick is going to hate me._

It took a few minutes, but Nikki's eyes grew heavy, the fog returning, heavy and thick. The man smiled, patting Nikki's cheek lightly. "Good boy." He said, getting up. 

A moment of silence passed, and then the men paused, stilled, and turned, his fingers brushing against the doorknob as he watched Nikki debate with himself between fighting the urge to sleep, or succumbing to it completely. 

"Ya' know..." The man started, voice falsely casual. "This was all your fault. Nothing worse for a person than to watch somebody who's attractive strut around without a care in the fucking world. I only did what was expected, Sixx, y' gotta realize that. The only thing I can say is this gem of advice- the next time somebody does this, don't be such a bitch about it." 

**3:25 AM**

Nikki fell asleep. 

The man left. 


	2. Chapter 2

**7:02 AM**

Tommy awoke with a throbbing headache and a naked woman laying on top of him without a single care in the world. 

It was early. 

_Too_ early, in fact, but the point remained that it was early enough that the light seeping in from between the lightly swaying curtains to be weak enough to not permanently blind the person who dared gaze directly into the glow. This was unusual in that Tommy rarely waked up before noon, and even that was a rather odd moment in his life. 

Carefully, so as to not awaken the woman whose name couldn't be remembered, Tommy slipped out from beneath the sleeping beauty and stood up, cracking his back loudly, and causing a nearby partygoer to look up and glare, as if the crack was, in reality, a loud bomb. 

Tommy just smiled, stuck up his middle finger, and walked away. 

**7:05 AM**

The bathroom was surprisingly empty, and Tommy enjoyed the moment of solitude as he used the bathroom, washed his hands, and then retrieved a few wads of toilet paper, dampened with water, to wipe off the remaining makeup that was caked onto his face. 

Something was wrong, and Tommy could feel it, a low thrum at the bottom of his stomach, like a vibration. But nothing seemed wrong, and it was hard to tell, anyways, not without going a long search around the house that they were in just to make sure. 

Tommy looked at himself through the cracked mirrors, smiled at his reflection, and left the bathroom, closing the door behind him and walking into the kitchen, his stomach voicing a loud compliant. The cupboards were relatively empty besides a bottle of vodka and what looked like a dead cockroach. Tommy remembered how he and the other guys used to set the disgusting little creatures alight on fire and watch as they skuttled around in pea-brained panic, and wondered if that could be considered psychotic. 

The kitchen table was occupied by Vince, who was twirling a penny and trying to see how long it could twirl before settling still completely. The older man merely glanced up with a small furrow to his eyebrows, like he was confused. 

**7:08** **AM**

"Have you seen Nikki?" Vince asked, irritation clear in his voice. "Mick was up in a panic earlier because Nikki was absent. I sent him to the drug store to get some aspirin so he could calm down some but- yeah, have you seen him?" 

Tommy paused for a moment in his ruffling through the cupboards to think and ponder that question. The last time he'd seen his favorite bassist in the world (as he often called Nikki whenever Tommy needed something) was that night, shooting up in the corner next to a few girls that Nikki wasn't even interested in. 

But then Tommy had gotten caught up in a game with a few other partygoers and had lost track of Nikki, as he was prone to doing. "I haven't seen him since last night. Oh, you know Nikki- he's probably passed out underneath a bed or something." Tommy waved the question off like an annoying fly that wouldn't leave him alone. 

**7:12 AM**

But those words didn't comfort anybody. 

Vince was starting to get angry about the sudden absence, and it was clear in the way that he was now tapping his finger loudly against the table, though his short temper could be explained by how tired he looked, and the amount of alcohol that'd been ingested just a few hours prior. 

"Don't worry about it." Tommy said, hoping to cheer Vince up and clear the tension just a little bit. "Nikki will be stumbling into the kitchen in just a few minutes, and you'll feel dumb for even thinking about it." He hoped so, at least. 

Vince scowled. "I'm not worried about him." He denied, shaking his head vehemently. "We got to get back home, and I'd prefer not to leave that shithead wherever he is, just so he can get all pissy to us when he gets home." 

Tommy frowned, but didn't say anything else about it. 

The worry mounted with Vince's reply, somehow making the situation more worrying than it was before. "I'll be right back." He said, standing up and walking out of the kitchen. 

**7:15 AM**

People were starting to wake up and stumble out the door in a trickling line, which made it significantly easier to look for a certain bassist who'd pulled a disappearing act. 

Tommy wasn't _worried,_ per say. No, he wasn't sober enough for any true concern, but as he glanced into corners and looked into deep, dark crannies, the possibility that something may have happened to his terror twin became realer. 

But Tommy didn't want to think about that. 

"Nik? C'mon, man, where are you?" Tommy called out, wandering towards the stairs. 

**7:17 AM**

The stairs creaked loudly underneath Tommy's feet as he climbed the stairs, squinting into the darkness that cloaked most of the upstairs due to the lack of windows. 

They did need to leave, perhaps sooner rather than later, and somebody needed to find Nikki, otherwise they'd have an angry bassist on their hands. 

There was a long row of doors, closed and open respectively. Tommy opened the first door, and uttered a short, amused laugh as he came into sight of a man getting into his pants and a woman laying on the bed in only her bra. "Get out! _Get out!"_ The woman shrieked at the top of her lungs, pulling the blanket up. 

Doing as told, Tommy closed the door. 

The next five doors proved to be either empty, or with unfamiliar people inhabiting them, some still asleep, and the others just awakening from their drug-induced nap. Tommy quickly left all of them alone, not wanting to get yelled at or, worse, have to fight a bunch of inebriated jerks- though, Tommy didn't have much room to complain properly. 

He was, after all, drunk, too. 

**7:22 AM**

Tommy didn't even bother to knock when he reached one of the last doors. 

It didn't even matter. 

Nikki was either downstairs or outside somewhere, and when Tommy found him, questions would come. But Tommy just wanted to find his friend because, really, it didn't feel right. 

A bad feeling was lurking just beyond sight. 

The door was a little hard to open, and Tommy had to shove his shoulder into the thin wood to get it to click open, which was an endeavor that proved painful as Tommy leaned back and rubbed his shoulder, which complained faintly about the push. It probably wasn't a good idea to push his body like that, but Tommy just wanted to find out where Nikki was and get on his day. 

**7:25 AM**

With a sigh, excepting just another person who was passed out or otherwise barely awake, Tommy opened the door, his mouth already open to apologize. 

But then, it felt like all the breathe had seeped from his lungs. 

Tommy stood there in the threshold, fingers curled tightly around the doorknob, unsure what he was supposed to do or say. His mind was uncomprehending, and it took an equally long time for Tommy to regain his breathe and manage a rational thought. 

The first idea was that Nikki had engaged in some debauchery with some girl (or guy, neither would be surprising). Tommy played with handcuffs all the time, and so, for a brief moment, that's what he assumed had happened. Nikki had played dirty with some girl, and she'd left him, still cuffed to the bed, when all was said and done. 

But that didn't make sense, did it?

It didn't make sense when Tommy saw Nikki's wrist, bright red and bleeding from the metal scraping against his skin and the fragile bone underneath, nor did it make sense when Tommy looked at Nikki's pale face, and saw a distinct purple bruise marring his right cheekbone, breaking the porcelain facade. 

Tommy swallowed past his nausea, and then quickly made his way over to the bed. "Nikki? Fuck, _fuck."_ Tommy hissed, sitting down on the edge of the bed, his hands freezing up in the air as he considered the sight that lay next to him. There was a key on the bedside table, a bright glint in the faint light, and Tommy grabbed it, hands shaking as he tried to unlock the handcuffs and at least get that sorted out. 

**7:24 AM**

There was a distinct, low click as Tommy managed to get the handcuffs unlocked and off, wincing as he caught sight of Nikki's wrist and how raw it looked, the skin beyond chaffed. It didn't take a genius to put the pieces to the puzzle together, and Tommy wanted to vomit but knew that he needed to take care of everything before he fell apart completely. 

"Sixx, hey, wake up, man." Tommy said, his heart thundering rapidly against his ribs. Nikki needed to wake up, because Tommy was worried that there was damage, and needed Nikki to be conscious so that he could assess it and ' _oh god he was raped what why how'._

Tommy hoped that he was just jumping to conclusions, that something else had happened, but he knew that it wasn't a false conclusion. 

Nikki moved his head, and whimpered slightly, like a kicked puppy, his eyebrows drawing down towards his closed eyes. 

Somewhere downstairs, a door opened, and then slammed shut. 

Familiar bright green eyes snapped open, and Tommy startled, his hands raised, not sure if he should touch Nikki or not. His knowledge of such situations was, admittedly, sparse. 

**7:26 AM**

"Nikki..." Tommy said softly, trying to make himself appear less threatening. "It's just me." 

But the placation was weak, coloured with an undercurrent of awkwardness. 

For a long moment, Nikki stared at Tommy like he was a stranger from the darkest depths of the alleyways. Nikki's chest was rising and falling rapidly, his hair messy and falling into his face, his injured wrist pulled close against his chest. 

He looked mortified, and horribly embarassed, but there was confusion there, too. 

" _Get away from me."_ Nikki whispered, a hoarse, rapsy whisper that sounded like he'd been chewing gravel. He started to push himself away, using his feet to dig into the mattress and put a few inches of distance between them. " _Get- away!"_

Tommy immediately stood up and backed away, his hands in the air to show that he wasn't a threat, but it was just as good as those words that'd been spoken a few moments previously. "Okay, okay." Tommy said, glancing toward the door. "You're okay, Nik. It's just me, nobody else." 

Somebody was climbing the stairs, Tommy could hear the weak, aged wood creaking loudly. He cursed under his breathe and quickly moved away, glancing out the open door. A slight, black-haired figure was coming up the stairs, and it didn't take long to figure out who it was. 

Tommy wasn't sure whether or not he should be relieved or worried even more. He glanced over his shoulder at Nikki, who was staring at the wall, and then at Mick, who was just reaching the top step. 

"I'll be right back, Nik." Tommy said, but Nikki either didn't hear or didn't care, just sat there, tense, silent, as Tommy half-closed the door and ran out into the hall. 

**7:28 AM**

Mick looked a little confused to see Tommy run out into the hall like the devil was at his shoes, but just frowned skeptically and met the drummer halfway. 

"What happened? You look pale." Mick said, his hands on his hips, dark eyes filled with concern. 

Tommy opened his mouth, and then closed it again. 

It all felt so surreal, like a dream- no, a nightmare. 

"Mick- listen, man, we need to talk." Tommy said, wringing his hands nervously, a lump forming in his throat. Mick looked taken aback by the words, and crossed his arms over his chest, eyebrows raised, immediately assuming the worse. 

_He should._

But Mick didn't truly know, not even in his wildest dreams. He couldn't imagine the true meaning of those words. "Okay." Tommy said, nodding his head frantically. "Just, try not to freak out, okay?" 

"Fine." Mick said. 

Tommy took a deep breathe, trying to calm himself. "Nikki is- I can't even- fuck." He ran his hand through his hair, feeling sick and anxious and scared, all at once. "Something bad happened to Nikki. Like, really fucking bad." 

Like a switch that'd been turned, suspicion turned to concern. "What do you mean?" Mick demanded, voice low. 

Tommy couldn't get the words out, only glancing toward the door, and the faint sliver that could be seen from within. It all seemed to come crashing down, like a tower, crumbling. 

And then he slowly sat down, mind racing. 

**7:32 AM**

Mick could feel his heart, and it was beating so fast that he felt like it was about to leap through his throat. But he forced himself to calm down, if only to be responsible, calm, setting aside his own worry to focus on the matter at hand. 

Tommy was on the floor, his back against the wall, hands burying his face. He looked panicked, and the blood seemed to have drained from his face, making him look faintly ghost-like. 

He obviously wouldn't be able to help, at all. 

Nikki was obviously in trouble, but this wasn't surprising. He always seemed to be able to be himself embroiled in a fight or argument, so nothing could really surprise Mick at this point. 

But Tommy had never seemed so shaken up before. 

Did Nikki overdose again? 

The mere thought made Mick feel faint. 

Mick looked at the door that Tommy had just vacated, barely open and silence coming from within the room that it lead into. Maybe, inside the room, Nikki would be dead, unconscious, _overdose, suicide._

And each and every possibility had a horrible outcome for everybody involved. But Mick knew that he had to be strong, to be present and selfless because Nikki needed him. 

So Mick gathered himself and his wayward thoughts, and slowly stepped toward the door, opening it slowly, just in case. 

None of the possibilities, outcomes, resembled the reality of this horrible nightmare. 

Nikki had no pants, or underwear on, just his jacket and shirt, which stuck to his body from his badly he was sweating, despite the painful shivers that seemed to be wracking his body. His wrist was chaffed bright red, and there was a purple bruise on his cheek, obviously from a punch. He looked terrified, but still unaware of his surroundings, his usually bright eyes hazy and dim. Mick tried not to look at Nikki's legs, which were bruised from fingertips pushing into his skin, and also avoided looking anywhere but at Nikki's face, trying to let his younger lover keep a remnant of his dignity. 

Mick didn't know what to say, but knew that he needed to say something.

"Nikki, can I come next to you?" Mick asked, hoping for some sort of answer that was at least somewhat coherent. He didn't know quite what was wrong with Nikki, except for the painfully obvious. Mick tried to keep his anger, his heartache, away from the surface, not wanting to scare Nikki even further. 

But instead of the hopefully coherent answer, Nikki's face remained carefully, neutrally blank, despite the pain that was present in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Mick, I'm sorry, I don't - please-" Nikki broke off, dry, raspy sobs tearing from his throat. 

Mick willed himself not to break down. "Shh, don't be, Nikki, it's not your fault." He said, stepping toward slowly and crouching down next to the bed, so worried that his head was pounding alongside his heart. 

But the words fell on deaf ears, as Nikki lowered his head and sobbed quietly, repeating apologies that didn't matter, leaving Mick to sit there, wanting nothing more than to take Nikki away from the world so that nothing bad could happen anymore. 


	3. Chapter 3

**7:45 AM**

What were you supposed to do when the man you loved was fucking brutalized? 

Mick didn't know- there were no manuals, no guides, that told people what to do in this sort of event. There was no preperation, nothing that could inform you what to expect, and what you, in turn, were supposed to do. 

In essence, Mick had been thrown in the ocean and forced to swim. 

Tommy was a mess, to put it lightly, and Mick knew that it was expected, but it didn't make it any easier to watch the drummer sit against the wall and stare out into space like some sort of demented mental patient. Vince was still downstairs stewing over for a cup of coffee, and Mick knew that somebody should go down there and get him but couldn't bring himself to suggest such a thing. 

So, instead, Mick sat there, his legs cramping and his back singing the grand symphony, listening to Nikki's ragged breathing and trying to figure out what he was supposed to do from here. 

There was a burning rage, like a coiled sun within Mick's chest, but he had to shove that away, alongside the sadness and shock, knowing that he couldn't fall apart. 

Nikki needed somebody to stand tall against the hurricane, and Mick had experience in that area. 

Speaking of Nikki- he'd calmed down, falling into a silence that seemed almost contemplative. Mick didn't know what was going through his lover's mind, but knew it couldn't be good, so he swallowed past the anxiety, the fear, and the fire-hot rage in favor of looking at Nikki, trying to find those bright green eyes that Mick knew so well beyond a veil of black.

"What hurts?" Mick asked, figuring that it was a good place to start, but couldn't be sure. Weary of making any sudden movements, Mick adjusted his footing slowly, and absently drew a pattern in the blanket to occupy his hands. 

A good answer or a bad answer blended together into an indistinguishable mass of worry and fear. Any response would be better than nothing, but Mick feared an injury that could only be fixed by a real professional, and not somebody who had acquired all their experience chasing after idiots with zero self preservation. 

Nikki raised his shoulders into a shrug, either truly unsure or just not wanting to answer. The look on his face was one of pure misery, and there was no question why.

**7:50 AM**

After a few moments, Mick stood up, wincing and taking another minute to regain his precarious balance. It was just another reminder of how old he was, and how this- _this,_ should've never happened. 

Nikki looked up, his eyes wide with panic. 

The idea of Nikki not wanting him to leave was reassuring, but not completely ideal. All the same, Mick smiled, and hurried to keep the fragile peace that threatened to crumble.

"It's okay." Mick whispered, trying his best to be calm and diplomatic at such a stressful time. "I'm just gonna go tell Tommy something, I won't even leave the room, 'kay?" 

Nikki looked at Mick for a moment, as if searching for a lie that wasn't there, trying to discern the truth. But he must've not seen anything to be concerned about, and so Nikki looked back down at the bed, knees drawn close to his chest despite the grimace that said the position wasn't comfortable. 

Mick resisted the urge to touch Nikki, to rest his hand on the younger man's shoulder in comfort, and instead walked back toward the door, which was mostly closed but not all the way. 

**7:53 AM**

Tommy was right where he'd been left- sitting against the wall, looking sick to his stomach. 

Mick wedged himself in the slit between the door and the wall, waiting until Tommy looked open, all wide eyes and startled gaze, and uncurled himself. "Is he okay? Well, obviously not because-" Tommy broke off, shaking his head so fast that it was a mere blur for a minute. "Jesus Christ, how- why wasn't I with him?" 

The implications of Tommy's words hit Mick like a speeding truck on the highway. 

"No, no, don't say that." Mick said, waving for Tommy to be quiet, if only for a moment. They couldn't talk about guilt now, certainly not during such a precarious moment. "Listen, Tom, I need you to go downstairs and get Vince, but don't let him inside the room, just knock when you got him, okay?"

Tommy seemed happy to get a task, pleased with the idea of being able to get away from the room, tainted with an unspoken darkness that lingered and lunged when you least expected it. "Yeah, okay, I'm going." Tommy said, standing up and jogging down the hall, going down the stairs and disappearing less than fifty seconds later. 

Mick sighed, before turning back into the room, closing the door behind himself. ' _This shouldn't be happening.'_ He thought, and that was true, but regret and remorse over things that couldn't be changed were useless and dangerous, and so Mick just shook his head, as if physically clearing the thoughts. 

"Nikki, I think it would be best if we-" Mick couldn't bring himself to say the word, and rubbed the bridge of his nose, irritated by the whole song and dance that was presenting itself. "- if we called the police." 

The words seemed to have an effect on Nikki's morose mood, and he looked up again, shaking his head. "Don't." He said, forcing the words out despite the fact that it seemed to be physically paining him. "No police...please." 

Mick considered it for a moment- fighting with Nikki wasn't an option, considering the state of both mind and body that had taken over Nikki like a tidal wave crashing over a man on the beach. The logical conclusion was to get the police involved, but what about press, which was undoubtedly Nikki's fear? Word would spread, and Nikki would forever have that accompanying the silent thought of his name. 

Personally, Mick didn't care for such things, but Nikki was a very different person with a very different mindset. 

"Alright." Mick relented, not wanting to make either of them more stressed than before. It wouldn't get any better if they started arguing about it. "Do you want to go back to the house?"

Nikki nodded. 

**7:58 AM**

Mick retrieved Nikki's underwear and pants, and handed them back to their rightful owner, before turning away to allow that single remnant of privacy, which probably meant a lot more than initial thought. 

Somebody knocked on the door. 

"Who is that?" Nikki demanded sharply, panic lacing his voice. 

Mick hurried to reassure him. "It's just Tommy and Vince. I need to talk with them for a minute." He said, waiting another minute, just to be sure, before turning around. 

Nikki was watching the door like he was afraid that somebody could come crashing through it, and Mick didn't blame him in the slightest, knowing that he'd probably be the same way. 

**8:02 AM**

Vince was, as always, loud and demanding answers as soon as Mick opened the door and slipped out, careful to keep himself visible just in case Nikki wanted him. 

"What the hell's going on?" Vince snarled, immediately jumping into the role of questioner. Tommy went to put his hand on Vince's shoulder to calm him, but Vince shrugged him off quickly. "We need to get back to the house, nobody knows where Nikki is, and I'm fucking confused!" 

Mick crossed his arms over his chest. "Calm down, will you?" He said irritably, not wanting to waste any more time. There was a thought, lingering and dark, that the bastard who caused this mess might still be in the house. "Nikki is inside the room, but he was-" Mick paused, and then closed the door a little bit more. "He was raped, Vince." 

The words didn't seem to comprehend at first. "What?" Vince said, dumbfounded by the statement. 

Tommy shrunk into the background, not wanting to hear it again. 

" _Raped,_ Vince." Mick hissed, glancing around the hallway but seeing nobody else in the vicinity. Everybody seemed to be downstairs, perhaps sensing that something was wrong. "I don't know who did it, but Tommy found him." 

"He was handcuffed to the fucking bed!" Tommy suddenly yelled, as if unable to control himself. 

Vince looked between Tommy and Mick, as if trying to see something that wasn't there. "Is this some sort of prank?" Vince eventually asked, his voice skeptical. "Because it isn't -" 

Mick growled, and in a single fluid movement that seemed almost natural, as if he was born for it, he grabbed Vince by his jacket and shoved him against the wall, not hard enough to injure but enough to get the point across. " _Prank?"_ Mick repeated, hysteria creeping into his tone. "Listen here, Neil. I need you to find your brain and screw it back in tight, because you're needed right now. Nikki needs you. No, he needs _us_ to get our acts together so we can help him. Don't be an idiot, Vince." Mick warned. 

**8:10 AM**

Vince nodded, breathless. "Okay." He agreed, obviously shocked by the display, and by the news that'd just been told to him. 

Mick nodded, and let go of the younger man, watching as Vince stood there, unmoving, processing the information slowly. It wasn't a real surprise that Vince had acted like that, but it was a disappointment. 

"We should get back to the house." Mick said, wiping his hands and turning to Tommy, who nodded in agreement. "I'll get Nikki, and you get the car. Vince? Go with Tommy." 

Vince looked like he was about to argue, but stopped himself at the last minute, and just followed Tommy down the stairs again. Mick watched as they went, and then walked back inside the bedroom. 

It was freezing cold, as if no warmth could seep into the enclosed area after what had transpired just a few hours earlier.

Nikki looked up, straightening himself slightly. "I'm cold." He said simply, and for some reason, those words felt wrong, odd, like they shouldn't have come out of Nikki's mouth. Mick didn't know why, and he didn't bother to find out why. 

He instead just bent down and grabbed Nikki's boots. "We're leaving, don't worry." 

The reassurance seemed to have a calming effect on Nikki, who accepted the boots and slipped them on without another word. Mick wondered how he was processing everything, but knew that it could wait, just like everything is else. 

Mick wanted to check Nikki for injuries, but didn't know he was supposed to go about it, and also wanted to get Nikki out of the bedroom as soon as possible. Maybe it would be beneficial. Besides, for all his bravado during the ordeal, Mick felt nauseous to be in the same room where Nikki had been- 

_Focus on the task at hand._

Nikki slowly slid to the edge of the bed, and attempted to stand up, his his legs were shaky at best, and he didn't appear to have his compkete strength back. Dejected, Nikki sat back down on the bed, staring blankly down at the floor. 

Mick felt his heart grow heavier at the sight, and he walked over, careful to keep himself within sight. "Would you like me to help you?" 

Though, it wasn't really an option. If Nikki couldn't even stand up, then going down the stairs was going to be a struggle. 

Slowly, Nikki nodded, but he was tense and stiff when Mick wrapped his arm around Nikki's waist and helped him up. Nikki stumbled but managed to keep his balance, weary, but gently putting his arm around Mick's shoulders. The touch was awkward and it was painfully clear how scared Nikki was by the mere help, and it only made Mick want to kill whoever did this even more. 

But, for now, all Mick could do was press a chaste kiss to Nikki's thick hair, and curse the way Nikki seemed to shiver beside him 


	4. Chapter 4

**8:13 AM**

Walking down the stairs proved to be a rather strenuous task. 

Mick could feel his back aching with every passing moment, and his hip also was voicing complaints about the added weight as they awkwardly traveled down each step. Nikki was carefully avoiding the contact, focusing on their feet as they half-stumbled, half-walked down the creaking wood before finally making their way onto solid ground. 

The house was relatively empty, now, with only a few choice stragglers remaining here and there, some of which were still asleep while others were just sitting around, making vague attempts at conversation. 

Luckily, Mick and Nikki went unnoticed. 

**8:15 AM**

Vince was standing in the threshold of the front door, arms crossed, his eyes dancing between the two of them. He clearly didn't know what to say, and, truth be told, Mick didn't, either. 

Speaking about anything felt oddly wrong, considering the circumstances that had put them there. The atmosphere felt dark and forbidden, and whatever excitement for the following day had long been wiped clean off the slate. 

"Tommy has the car." Vince said, shifting uncomfortably, clearly unsure about what to do with himself. "He's...ah, waiting." He added uselessly, fidgeting with his hands. 

Mick nodded, shifting his weight onto other leg to try and alleviate some of the pressure. "Okay. Nik, are you ready?" Mick asked, not wanting to force anything, but it was clear that everybody wanted to get out of the house. Nikki hadn't raised his head yet, nor did he answer verbally, but a small, barely noticeable nod served as response enough. 

**8:18 AM**

The light felt searing, a very different change from the darkness that plagued the house, both physically and mentally. Mick felt like a vampire as he squinted in the sudden glare coming from the bright sun, and ducked his head so that his long black hair could serve as a shield of some sort, temporary as it may be. 

Tommy was in the driver's seat, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, unable to stop moving, per usual. Though, there was probably something more to his antsiness this time. It was clear from his eyes, even from a few feet away, how panicked he was about the whole situation, which wasn't surprising, nor was it ideal. Mick needed for everybody to keep their heads in their shoulders, and to not panic like a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off- even if there was plenty reasons to do so, they couldn't. 

Mick opened the door, and Nikki awkwardly climbed into the backseat, his arms wrapped around his abdomen, which made Mick even more worried than before, if that was even in the realm of possibilities. 

_We need a doctor._

And cops, technically. 

But Mick wasn't an idiot by any means, and he knew perfectly well why there was such vehement refusal on Nikki's part to say anything to the cops. They wouldn't believe a notorious troublemaker about such a claim, as stupid as it may be, and even if they did, than what would come out of it? 

**8:20 AM**

Vince was in the passenger seat, looking out the window, contemplating the rough neighborhood as they passed by crumbling houses and old cars propped up on large slabs of concrete. He could feel the white-hot rage in his chest at the man who'd caused all of this, pain and misery that would likely stay with everybody, forever. 

If Vince ever got his hands on the man, then he would wish he'd never been born. 

How could somebody do such a thing? Vince knew he was no saint, and had proved that countless times over the years. The thought brought back that horrible memory of Razzle, whose dark eyes had shone with life just a minute before it'd all gone to hell. 

But never, _ever,_ would Vince do something so despicable, so disgusting...

The silence must've been too much to bear for Tommy, who could never go too long without some sort of noise, wherever it may come from. So, he leaned to the side, and turned the radio on low. 

**8:23 AM**

Sometimes, there were no words that could be said to alleviate the pain. 

Tommy felt so guilty that it was like a heavy weight inside his chest, making it hard to breathe, tough to think. Usually, they were attached at the hip, and Tommy was never far from Nikki, but this time, it was different. 

There had been pretty girls at the party, and Tommy had left himself be caught in a web full of spiders, and Nikki had been raped, and it wouldn't have happened, if only Tommy had stayed. Whoever had caused this whole mess wouldn't have had the guts to do it, if only there had been someone there. 

Vince looked over, catching Tommy's eye. "Stop it." He mouthed, carefully forming his lips over the unsaid words. Tommy frowned, but didn't say anything in return. 

**8:25 AM**

"Mick, is there anything we need to do today?" Vince asked after a long stretch of silence, an attempt at normalcy that failed. 

Looking up from his lap, Mick sighed, remembering that they did have things that they needed to do. But none of it seemed important now that everything had happened. "No." He said with a shake of his head.

_Recording sessions._

But they didn't matter- Doc would be angry, but he could go to hell, for all anybody cared. "Well, that's good." Vince said, but nobody replied to the weak attempt at conversation, and it fell flat in the air. 

Nobody wanted to broach the topic that everybody needed to talk about. It was forbidden, words that wouldn't sound right, and it was best to remain _there,_ sitting like a monster in the empty seat. 

"I'm going to be sick." Nikki mumbled, pressed against the door like he was hoping it would open and allow him to disappear into the wild, terrible world. 

Mick turned his head. "What?" He said, not entirely sure that he'd heard anything at all, just a whisper in the wind. 

Nikki gasped. "I'm going to be sick." 

This time, there was no need for repeating- they were on an empty road, but Tommy immediately steered toward the side, near patches of grass and a small ditch. Nikki threw open the door and felt onto the ground, dry heaving and coughing, feeling the nausea rise. His head was pounding like a drum, and Nikki could still feel.... _him..._

_Fingertips pressed harshly against his skin, digging into his thighs, and a faint chuckle when screams tore from Nikki's throat, finding humor in his pain. The man grabbed Nikki by his hair, strands tearing from the roots, and whispered in his ear- "You're enjoying this. Admit it."_

How many times had Nikki begged for mercy, when nobody gave a single damn about him? 

How many times had Nikki felt safe, only for it to all fall apart? 

How many times had Nikki felt the cold, bitter disappointment of pain?

"How- how bad is it?" Mick asked, and what was Nikki supposed to say to that? 

_How many times had Nikki been taken on a cold, hard bed, humiliated by people who were bigger than him, stronger than him, and intent on doing nothing but hurting him?_

Nikki coughed, wincing at the burn in his throat, wiping at his eyes and the tears that threatened to fall. 

_"You're so weak, Sixx. So, so, weak."_

Mick didn't get an answer, but he didn't really expect one, either. He couldn't blame Nikki for not answering, and so he just stood there, a silent presence behind the young man who'd lost too much, too soon.

He didn't quite know what to say, either. 


	5. Chapter 5

**8:38 AM**

By the time they somehow finally managed to get to their house, which was located in a rather shady part of the city, Tommy had succeeded in becoming completely, totally silent. 

It was rather rare for the drummer to go more than five minutes without saying something so completely dumb that you just had to wonder how he survived childhood, and Vince knew it, so as the labored breathing from the backseat became obsolete while Nikki made an immediate run for the house, and Mick followed without another word, Vince leaned over the console and grabbed Tommy by the shoulder. 

"Hey, hey." Vince said, his fingers tightening their grip to bring Tommy back down to earth. There was only do many things he could juggle at that moment, and a panicked drummer wasn't one of those. "Calm down, okay? Breathe." 

Tommy sucked in a desperate breathe that he'd been unaware had been held. "Fucking- I could have _stopped_ it, you realize that?" 

Shaking his head, Vince struggled to find the proper words. He was never good at comforting people, and his head was already racing with the events that'd just taken place. "We all could've stopped it, but we weren't there, and that's not our faults. The other people at the party could've stopped it, but they didn't. But that's not their faults. It's nobody's fault but the person who did this, understand?" 

But the words didn't seem to register in Tommy's mind, and the younger man just scowled, pulling the keys out of the ignition and getting out of the car, slamming the door loudly behind him. 

**8:40 AM**

Mick knew that Nikki needed his space, and could see the familiar stiffness in his shoulders that suggested a want to be alone, so while the bassist headed upstairs without a single word being spoken, Mick sat down at the worn dining table that nobody used but didn't have the heart to throw away. 

He didn't want to think, because every time a thought crossed his mind, it was accompanied by the mental imagery of Nikki being forced into that room, and handcuffed to the bed post. Mick didn't want to think about the what-ifs that always came by, but knew that he had to.

Otherwise, who else would dare think about the aftereffects? 

Nikki needed a doctor, but in his classic fashion, would refuse to see one, and would likely just try and move on to the best of his present ability, but Mick knew that Nikki needed to get checked out, and needed to find some sort of loophole to ensure that Nikki for checked out, but that his privacy was respected still. 

Because that was most important, now more than ever. 

Tommy appeared, but he stormed straight through the door and made a beeline for his room, which was, thankfully, on the first floor, and a ways away from the stairs. 

A minute later, Vince appeared, shaking his head. 

Mick pointed to the coffee maker, and with that, Vince, without his usual complaints, began to make them coffee, which was much needed after the whole ordeal. 

It took a few minutes, but eventually, Vince appeared with two steaming mugs, and he sat down, handing Mick one of the mugs while sipping his own. 

"So-" Vince said after a few moments of tense silence, broken only by the sound of the pipes rattling. "Where's Nikki?" He asked. 

"Shower, by the sounds of it." Mick replied. 

Vince nodded, taking a small sip of his coffee. 

There were a million things to say, but nobody could bring themselves to utter one of those words. Vince sighed and looked down at his hands, and was rather shocked when he realized that they were shaking slightly. "What are we going to do?" He asked. 

Mick rubbed the bridge of his nose. "We're going to have a lot on our hands, Vince." He replied. 

"You don't say." Vince said blandly. "Tommy already is blaming himself, and Nikki- well, who knows. He'll probably try and forget about it, but you can't just forget about this kinda thing, can you?" 

It took a minute for Mick to realize that it was a question that needed to be answered. "Hell, no." 

**8:42 AM**

Nikki locked the door. 

Somewhere within the sea of shock, Nikki was grateful that Mick hadn't followed. 

He needed to be alone. 

The water was blindingly hot, and it seemed to dull the pain that Nikki was experiencing, if only by a little, pushing away the low throbbing pain in Nikki's face and stomach. 

Nikki was alone, and that thought made the hairs at the back of his neck stand up in spite of the burning burning. It was a small bathroom, though, and it was reassuring, somewhat, that nobody could hide inside, waiting until Nikki let his guard down, and all of a sudden, being alone didn't seem so appetizing. 

But the thought of being around anyone else, especially naked, was terrifying. 

And that made it all worse. 

Nikki felt humiliated, and disgusted, at both himself and the man who had done this. 

_This_ body didn't feel like his own. 

Forcing himself to move, Nikki began to scrub violently at his face, removing each and every trace of makeup, watching as eyeliner mixed with the water, tinting the clear liquid black. The whole situation felt so surreal, yet, each and every ache reminded Nikki of the man, and brought him to the cold reality of the present world. 

_The man pressed above him, and for a sickeningly tender moment, grabbed a strand of black hair and began to twirl it around his finger, making Nikki tense in shock and, in anger, pull away, sending a sharp bolt of pain into his skull._

Why him? 

_"Nobody can hear you." The man whispered. "Nobody can save you."_

Nikki had tried so hard, so hard, to move past his childhood, and now, it was all flooding back, like the dam had broken within his mind, and sent all the villagers scrambling for safety. 

Except, there was nowhere to run. 

**8:45 AM**

Vince finished his coffee, and then looked up at the ceiling. 

He and Nikki had never been very close, and they argued more than anything, really, but Vince loved Nikki like a brother, and he was going to get revenge, no matter what. Whoever had done this would dearly regret so much as glancing at Nikki, and Vince would make sure of that. 

"Don't do anything that you'll regret." Mick said, breaking the silence with six abrupt words, his dark eyes filled with knowledge. 

Vince tried to keep his face neutral. "What are you talking about?"

"You know full and well what I'm talking about." Mick replied, looking unflinchingly at Vince, like he could see inside of the younger man's head. 

At this point, it wouldn't be surprising. 

"I won't." Vince muttered, standing up and putting his mug near the sink. 

That was a promise. 

Mick splayed his hands in the air. "How are you even going to find him?" He asked. 

"Now's not the time to think about this." Vince replied shortly, not in the mood to entertain questions that he didn't even know the answer to. 

**8:47 AM**

Tommy lay on his bed, listening to the rattling pipes, and trying to sort through the guilt. 

Why did he just wander off, without a second thought? If Tommy had been there, then this wouldn't have happened. Nikki would be fine, and they would all probably still be sleeping off their hangovers. 

Everything would be fine, if only Tommy hadn't left, distracted by the women and alcohol. 

A multitude of emotions- anger, guilt, sorrow, regret, hit Tommy like a truck, and he grit his teeth against the white hot rage that pulsed through him. 

He wished desperately that there was something useful that he could do, but all that could be done was lay in bed, and look up at the ceiling, regretting so much. 

**8:50 AM**

Mick heard the shower shut off, but he decided to give Nikki a few more minutes to himself before he went up there and broached the subject of a doctor. 

It was understandable, why Nikki was inevitably going to refuse to go see somebody, but it wasn't smart. Mick knew the dangers, and worried incessantly about things like diseases, and what damage could've been done besides the glaringly obvious. 

The phone started ringing, but Vince was already out of the kitchen and picking it up off of the receiver before Mick could even stand up, which was only a testament to how much this goddamn disease was taking from him. 

"Oh, Doc!" Vince suddenly said, practically yelling so that Mick could hear him. "I was just about to call you." 


	6. Chapter 6

**8:51 AM**

Mick's blood ran cold. 

He looked up at where Vince was, twirling the phone cord around his finger like a teenage girl, and then at the phone, where the faint sound of Doc McGhee's voice could be heard. 

' _Well, fuck.'_ Mick thought, standing up and creeping towards Vince, who was nodding along like whatever Doc was saying was the most interesting thing he'd ever heard while simultaneously trading anxious looks with Mick over his shoulder, as if hoping that the silent communication could save him. There was a certain anger, whether it be deserved or not, that McGHee could call at such a time, even though he likely had no idea what was going on. 

"No, well, that's not important. We've been very busy, boss-man." Vince said, obviously getting irritated. 

A response came in a louder tone. 

Mick couldn't hear what was being said, but knew that they were both getting themselves worked up, and voices were being raised. 

Hurriedly before an argument started, Mick grabbed the phone and pushed Vince away, making the younger man grumble loudly but he didn't make an attempt to get the phone back. "Listen, Doc, something very...very...important is going on right now. I'm sorry we missed the recording session-" _or whatever it was. "-_ and I promise we'll make it up to you, but give us a few days, okay?" 

Doc scoffed loudly. "You're rockstars. Do you really think that you can just take a few days off, just like that?" He demanded heatedly. 

Truth be told, Mick didn't really know if it was possible, but he was ready to try and fight for those few days. "I don't give a fuck about whether or not we _can_ do it. We _will_ do it, Doc. We'll see you in a few days." And he slammed the phone back onto its receiver, suddenly aware of how much anger had been pulsing through his veins, and Vince looked rather impressed. 

"Look at you go." Vince said, a small smirk beginning to tug at his face. 

For that single moment in time, it felt good for Mick to be able to let that single sliver of anger out on somebody, even if it was on the increasingly clueless Doc, but then everything else came rushing back like a tidal wave of memories, and that temporary relief was gone, replaced by the realization that Mick needed to go upstairs, and talk with Nikki about so many things. 

Vince also seemed to remember, because the smirk disappeared, and he looked at the phone. "What are you going to tell him?" He asked. 

Raising his shoulders into a shrug, Mick sighed, and looked up at the ceiling where he knew Nikki was, perhaps thinking back to the events of the night and later day, or maybe trying to forget what had gone over just a few hours before.

The thought of what Nikki was capable of doing to himself was terrifying. 

"I don't know." Mick confessed, feeling so helpless, and hating every second of it. 

**8:53 AM**

Nikki stood in front of the mirror, the pain in his body fading to numbness. 

He hated himself for not fighting back harder, for making Mick hate him. 

Sure, the older man had been nothing but kind to him since everything had happened, but that was just because it was _Mick,_ and soon enough, he would undoubtedly feel disgusted and refuse to so much as be in the same band as Nikki, and he didn't blame the guitarist one bit. 

The mirror was cracked, and probably hadn't been cleaned in a while, but Nikki could see himself, and the pasty white of his skin, and the bloodshot whites of his eyes. He could see the purple bruise on his cheekbone, and the skin around his eyes was red from crying. 

Looking down at his hands, Nikki realized that there was dried blood under his fingernails, which were bitten down to the quick, and that blood, dark red and oh so real, seemed to make it that much more horrific. Nikki felt like something was pressing down on his ribcage, suffocating him, just like when the man was on top of him, preventing Nikki from making even the slightest movement. 

_There was blood on the bed, blood on your hands._

_It's fine. It doesn't mean anything._

Nikki scrubbed his hands under the cold water until the skin was rubbed raw, just like on his wrist. 

It all was a memory that kepr replaying in his head, like a movie on repeat.

He hated feeling so afraid, and so humiliated by someone whose name was a mystery. 

It took only a minute for Nikki to find his supplies. 

**8:56 AM**

After a moment of thought, Mick climbed the stairs. 

He didn't have much of a proper plan, but the jist of it was clear, and that was all that really mattered. 

The only real concern was Nikki, who was opinionated and wouldn't stand down, no matter _who_ or _what_ or anything. It was one of the many things that Mick loves about the bassist - he would never stand down. 

Which just brought another question into the equation, which was _what hell had terrified Nikki enough to comply, if even slightly?_

Mick paused in front of the door to knock, just as a precaution, and then when only silence answered the unsaid question, he opened the door. 

The room was dark, and the only light was coming from beneath the curtains, which swayed slightly and allowed the sun to peek through, if only slightly. 

Nikki was sitting on the bed, resting against the headboard, his sleeve rolled up, and a needle in his hand. It was clear what he was doing as soon as Mick entered the room, but it didn't make the sight any better or easier to process. Nikki tensed but didn't pause in his actions, only stopping when all was done, and he pulled the needle from his vein. 

It shouldn't have been a surprise, but that wasn't an excuse. 

"Godamnit." Mick breathed, knowing that losing his temper was the last thing he needed to do but _come on._ He needed Nikki sober and with his mind fully intact, not drugged out and high. "Couldn't you - wait a damn minute?" He looked at the track marks, running down pale arms, and felt his stomach twist unpleasantly. 

He did drugs, too, but not to this extent. 

Nikki didn't look particularly bothered. "What do you want?" He asked, undoing the tie that he'd wrapped around his upper bicep and tossing it into the corner. There was a callousness to his voice that hadn't been there before, and an odd gleam to his eyes that Mick didn't like in the slightest. 

They were at odds- bed and ground, standing and sitting, concerned and unwilling.

Mick forced himself to breathe, knowing that if such a thing had happened to him, then he would've wanted to be able to forget it, too. "I needed to talk to you." He said, carefully walking foward like a trainer trying not to startle a spooked horse. 

**8:58 AM**

Nikki watched, eyes calculating every movement against his will. 

"About what?" He asked, scooting further to the edge of the bed, until he had to put a leg down onto the floor to prevent himself from falling. Mick wouldn't hurt him, Nikki knew, but he didn't like this in the slightest, and could feel his heart beating so fast that it was like a jackhammer.

The high hadn't kicked in yet. 

Mick struggled with himself for a minute, opening his mouth and closing it, which was unlike him, because he usually had all the words, just nobody to listen. He sighed, and looked down at the ground, as if unable to stare back. "Listen, Nik, I think you should go to a doctor." 

For a minute, Nikki didn't understand, and then he did. 

_Doctors, people, touching you, inspecting._

"No, no..." Nikki shook his head and pushed himself against the wall, feeling strangely terrified. Those last strings of dignity would be ripped away, and they would ask him questions, and poke and prod. The police would be called, and they wouldn't believe him, because who would believe Nikki Sixx? Boys weren't victims, Nikki had once been told, and though his memories were foggy and uncertain, it might have been his mother who had bestowed that thread of wisdom upon him.

_They just weren't strong enough to fight back._

"Just listen me for a minute." Mick rushed to say, his hands outstretched as if to catch Nikki if he fell apart completely. He was exhausted, but not physically, just mentally and emotionally.

So many things were happening with a frightening amount of speed. 

It was a feeling that Mick likened to being shoved into a barrel and pushed downhill, and nobody could stop them, not until they hit a tree. "I know you don't want anybody near you right now, and that's okay, but the-" Mick paused, unsure of how to voice it, that single word.

"Just say it." Nikki sneered, arms wrapped around his skinny torso. 

Mick took a deep breathe, feeling his disgust rise. "Listen, whoever did this might've hurt you, beyond the obvious." He motioned vaguely to Nikki's face, hating how hard all of this was. Mick wasn't good with words, but they were needed in this situation. "And we don't know if he was, well, clean." 

If things could've gotten any worse, then they did at that exact moment. 

The implication, slight as it may have been, of Nikki being _dirty,_ seemed to strike the younger man like a slap, and something twisted inside his pretty green eyes that made Mick's heart feel like it was shrinking, physically hurting with the force of it all. 

"And- _and-"_ Mick said, recognizing the challenge ahead. "We need to make sure your wrist is fine, which it probably isn't. It shouldn't still be hurting." He could see the look of pain on Nikki's face as he rubbed the noticeable mark on his thin wrist. Mick didn't want to add a possible infection on top of everything else they were having to deal with. 

Nikki looked away. "I'll think about it." He relented, even though such a response usually meant that no thought would be put toward the matter at hand. 

But Mick wasn't willing to push Nikki further, hoping that maybe, just maybe, that once piece of control would reassure the younger man, but the distance in those eyes made the hope a little less likely. 

"Okay." Mick conceded. 

_Okay, we're going to be okay._

_I hope so, at least._


	7. Chapter 7

**9:00 AM**

"Can I - at least- wrap your wrist up?" Mick asked, unsure of how his attempt at helping Nikki could be taken, only hoping for the absolute best. "It might get infected." 

Nikki didn't like anything that was happening at that moment, not to mention the previous hours, but he absolutely _loathed_ being treated as if he couldn't do such a thing by himself. He looked down at his wrist, which was starting to throb in complaint, and forced himself to seem like his normal self. 

_You are not Frank Ferranna. You are Nikki Sixx._

"I can do it myself." Nikki said through gritted teeth, standing up and biting down hard on his tongue when a sharp burning sensation made itself known in his backside. The roughness in which the man had pushed himself in was making a sharp return, and Nikki hated himself, how the tears burned in his eyes. 

Mick sighed. "If you want to." 

Neither of them wanted to fight, except Nikki was prepared to bite if someone so much as growled at him. He wanted to be alone, but at the same exact time, couldn't find it within himself to say such a thing to Mick. 

After all, Nikki supposed he should cherish the last moments in which Mick tolerated his presence. 

It was still boggling his mind, the fact that Mick hasn't expressed the disgust nor anger that should've been pulsing through his body. Despite his blunt demeanor that Nikki had loved ( _so weak)_ from that very first day, Mick hadn't so much as said a word that could be taken in any way but concerned and worried. 

Why? 

Nikki leaned against the wall. 

_He should hate me._

_I'm disgusting._

"Do you need help?" Mick asked, patient and kind, a soft tint of curiosity coloring his voice. 

_HE hates ME._

Nikki shook his head, stumbling back into the bathroom and looking through the drawers, searching for the first aid kit that he knew was in there, but couldn't seem to find. Scissors and Q-tips and cotton balls, but nothing that would prove useful. 

He opened the cabinet, braced himself, and awkwardly bent down so he could peer inside, cursing his height at that moment. 

And yes, finally, there it was. 

It was shoved deep into the back, and Nikki winced, knowing that he had no chance of getting down there without sending his pain into a blazing crescendo that would surely make it all that much worse. It was hard enough to walk and bend down at the waist, much less fully get onto his knees. 

Taking a deep breathe, Nikki shifted down, one of his legs awkwardly extending to the side as he reached out toward the kit. He gasped painfully, and - 

_Weak little Frankie. So, so weak._ _Can't defend yourself, can you?_

"I'll get it." Mick said, appearing from out of nowhere and crouching down. "You're so stubborn." He said, but what should've been in anger was tinted in fondness, and he retrieved the kit with an ease that made Nikki's face burn in embarrassment. 

Nikki looked away, unable to face the disappointment. 

**9:05 AM**

Somebody knocked on the door. 

And they knocked _hard._

Vince jumped, startled from the slight reverie that he'd fallen into due to the silence that'd fallen over the house. "Who the fuck-" He was about to say, and then whoever was behind the door knocked again. 

Logically, Vince knew that it was probably one of their 'friends', or maybe their dealer making one of his weird, unexpected stops, but there was a lingering thought in his head that it was the man that had raped Nikki, and the mental image that presented itself was enough that Vince grit his teeth at the sudden shock of anger, hard enough that it made his jaw ache. 

Tommy appeared, breathless. "Who is it?" He asked, eyes wide, and the slightest bit of panic creeped into his tone. 

"Do I look like I know?" Vince scowled, turning around and walking out of the kitchen and toward the door. Tommy followed him close behind, and it didn't escape Vince's notice that he lingered near the knife stand. 

Unsure of what to make of that, Vince peered out the window. 

And saw Doc. 

_Fucking Doc._

"Oh, that little motherfucker." Vince breathed out, unaware that he'd been holding his breathe until that moment where he saw that familiar face, and the sense of danger faded, replaced by a fierce and horrible anger. "That prick." He snarled. 

"What?" Tommy said, pushing Vince away without warning and looking out the window. "Oh shit." 

Vince ran his hands through his hair, debating on what he was going to do. He could always just ignore the persistent knocking, but then again, Doc had access to them in more ways than one. He was their manager, after all. "I'm gonna to get them." Vince said after a long, tense moment of thinking. "Mick and Nikki." He elaborated. 

"And then what?" Tommy demanded, obviously worried, twisting his fingers together in clear anxiety. 

"I don't know!" Vince forced himself to calm down, taking a deep breathe and turning to look the drummer in the eye "But he cannot know what happened." 

Vince didn't know how he knew, but there was a knowledge, deep and sure, within his mind that told him that Doc wouldn't believe the truth. 

And he hated it. 

**9:02 AM**

Mick guiding Nikki so that he was sitting on the rim of the bathtub, and frowned at the wound on his wrist. 

Accidentally, Mick's fingers grazed on Nikki's back, and the younger man tensed and flinched away, his mouth opening in a sharp gasp. "I'm sorry." Mick said, wincing in apology. He wanted to say something more, but nothing else seemed right. 

Nikki swallowed thickly and sat down, forcing back a grimace of pain. 

Moving away, Mick rustled around in the cabinets before pulling out a bottle of peroxide. He was moving slowly, intent on making sure that Nikki knew he wasn't a threat. 

Even though it aggravated his back, Mick crouched on the floor, making a motion in the air for Nikki to hold out his arm, and he did, feeling a sharp fear - 

_Don't disobey or else -_

Nikki forced himself to breathe and stop thinking about such things, reminding himself that this was Mick, and then nearly lapsed back into the thoughts because Mick should be angry and disappointed, disgusted at Nikki for being weak, for allowing another man to touch him. 

"This is going to hurt like a son of a bitch." Mick said, remarkably calm under the circumstances, and when Nikki nodded because _it's just a cut how much is this going to hurt_ Mick poured the liquid down onto Nikki's wrist. 

It felt like a fire, rapid and all-encompassing, and Nikki breathed in suddenly, shocked by how much it truly did hurt. He lowered his head, fingers curling into a fist, wondering when the drugs would kick in. Nikki needed that euphoria, just so he could forget, if only temporarily. 

"Told you." Mick said with a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, and he reached down to retrieve the roll of gauze. Nikki stared down at his wrist, suddenly unable to stop moving his legs, bouncing them up and down like an excited child. 

Mick was careful not to make actual skin-to-skin contact as he wrapped the gauze around Nikki's wrist, noticing the movement, and knowing what it meant. 

It was only to be expected, that Nikki would do such a thing - it was, after all, his preferred way of coping with things. Maybe it was for the best, in a strange, twisted sort of way. Maybe it was best for Nikki to get disappear into his own world for awhile.

Mick didn't know. 

He wasn't a fucking doctor. 

**9:07 AM**

The door opened. 

Nikki flinched, and Mick turned around. 

Tommy looked at both of them, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes dancing between the two men. "Um, Doc's here." He said, already backing away from the threshold of the door. "Vince doesn't know what to do." 

The news didn't come as any surprise to Mick, but that didn't mean he was any less angry. "Great." He muttered, standing up with a hand against his back and moving back into the bedroom. "I'll go down there. Nik, Tommy, stay up here, and don't come back down." 

Mick really didn't want Doc and Nikki to be in the same room together, and could only imagine the kind of havoc that would reign upon them if such a thing happened. Tommy was just a precaution, just in case. 

"Just keep him up here." Mick whispered to Tommy as they passed each other. 

Tommy nodded. "Okay." 

**9:08 AM**

Vince heaved out a heavy sigh, debating with himself on whether or not he should open the door or just force Doc to leave. 

Looking behind his shoulder at the sound of footsteps, Vince was undoubtedly glad to see Mick, who could always be relied on for making the better, smarter decisions. Maybe it was because of his age, or just because of his personality, which was riddled in sensibility, despite his own vices and problems. 

"You know that he isn't gonna leave." Vince said, raising his eyebrows in silent question. 

"Yeah, I know." Mick replied, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. "We're going outside to talk to him." 

Vince stared at the guitarist for a moment, unsure, and then he nodded, trusting the older man in that single decision. 

Decisions were such finicky things, weren't they? Life or death, happiness and sadness, fear and bravery. 

For this decision, Vince would have to trust that Mick was right. 

Standing up from his crouch, Vince nodded. "Okay, what are we going to say, then?" He asked, feeling strangely like a child, trusting in somebody else to make the right calls. He was the leader, goddamnit, but now was not the time to linger over such petty things. 

Mick unlocked the door. "Let me handle that." 

As soon as Mick appeared in the doorway, Doc opened his mouth and was about to repeat threats and utterances that they'd all heard a million times before. Vince understood the silent cue and followed closely behind, shutting the door just a split second later. 

Doc was scowling heavily, his eyebrows furrowed deeply, obviously irritated by what was not being told, and what had already been said. "What the hell is going on here?" He demanded harshly, arms crossed over his chest. 

Mick nearly smiled, not because of anything else besides his own amusement that their manager always tried to look so tough, so badass, when he probably even couldn't hold his own anywhere else besides with people whom he could easily intimidate. "Tommy and Nikki have the flu." Mick said, lying with a natural ease, not bothered in the slightest. "We're going to have to postpone recording for a few days." 

"You four really - I don't know what kind of shit you four have been getting into, but how drugged up do you all have to be to think that you can do that?" Doc demanded, his eyes dark in anger. 

Vince sneered. "They're too sick to even stand up, Doc." He said, knowing that he wasn't nearly as good at lying, but hoping that he could piggyback off of Mick and wish for the best. 

"Liar." Doc bit back. "The only thing wrong with them is up here, understand?" He motioned toward his head. "So, you are going to go back up there, and I swear, those two better with you, otherwise -" 

"Otherwise what?" Vince asked. 

Mick, who had been largely silent throughout the ordeal, could feel the tension as it threatened to boil over. He couldn't tell Doc the truth, or even a sugarcoated version of it. Vince was a temperamental person, and would probably explode like a firecracker any moment now. "Just a few days, Doc." Mick said, trying to keep his voice calm and patient. "That's all I'm asking. None of us are feeling good, and we don't want to get anybody else sick." 

"Oh, _now_ you four care about people beside yourselves. What really happened here? Did Sixx overdose again?" 

Usually, Vince wouldn't have been so quick to the punch, literally as that may have been, but he was sensitive about any mention of Nikki at that moment, and Doc was already testing the limits, and Vince raised his hand, curled tightly in a fist. 

Before anything could happen, Mick reached out, and grabbed Vince by the hand. 

"What the fuck man?" Vince hissed, his teeth grit together tightly in his red hot anger. 

Doc tilted his head up. "It's a good thing that-" 

Whatever their manager was about to say next was lost to everybody, because just a split second later, Mick threw whatever caution that had been holding him back to the wind and punched Doc in the face, which sent a bolt of pain through his hand, but was ultimately worth whatever pain his hand would go through when Doc stumbled back and, with wide, shocked eyes, raised his hand to his nose. 

"Leave, Doc. We need a week, and if you so much as call us without any real fucking reason - or, hell, for anything at all, then this time, it won't be me." Mick hoped that the implication would make it's way through Doc's thick skull, that no more violence would needed. 

Not today. 

Mick motioned for Vince to follow him back inside. 

**9:10 AM**

Tommy could hear the footsteps, and his heart lurched. 

Neither of them had said anything in the past few minutes, mainly because there was nothing that could be said. Tommy shifted, unsure of what he was supposed to be doing, the earlier events of the day running through his mind without a care in the world. Nikki was sitting on the bed, avoiding eye contact, playing with the bandage that'd been wrapped around his wrist. 

Thinking back to the party, Tommy wondered if maybe, he could've seen the man. 

If maybe, their shoulders had brushed up against each other's in the crowd. 

Nikki turned his head so that he was looking out the window, and Tommy could see the bruise. 

A thought came to mind - _I am going to kill whoever did this -_ and usually, Tommy would be frightened by such a thought. 

But right then, he could only feel anger. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to read the previous chapter!

**9:15 AM**

Mick sat at the table, drinking a cup of cold coffee, and trying not to wince at the equally freezing bag of frozen peas that was laying atop of his hand. 

"I can't believe you did that!" Vince said, his tone becoming like that of an excited child who had just seen something so incredibly cool that he had to replay the event over and over in his mind. "I mean, I knew you were capable of doing something like that but - _jeez."_

The coffee was beginning to turn Mick's stomach, so he pushed it away. "Doc needed to shut up." He said, a little shocked at what he'd done, but not regretting it in the least. After years of being the calm one who broke up the fights, Mick didn't know how to feel about his loss of temper. 

But Doc didn't have that right to say such things and question the band, not in the slightest, especially when it came to Nikki. 

Vince motioned into the air. "Did you see his face? That was the best thing I've seen in a long while." He smiled, but then it faded quickly. "How's Nikki? You guys were up there for awhile." 

With a weary sign, Mick fiddled with the bag that lay atop his sore knuckles. "I don't really know." He admitted, feeling a little defeated by the situation as a whole. "He's been quiet, for the most part, and he refuses to see a doctor." 

"Can you tell if anything's - well, wrong with him?" Vince asked, obviously feeling a little awkward with the topic of discussion. 

Mick shrugged. 

The floorboards creaked, and Tommy rounded the corner, looking rather grim and downtrodden. 

"What are you doing?" Mick asked, a tone of panic lacing his voice like poison. 

Tommy twisted his hands. "Nikki wanted to be alone." He said, sitting down at the table and looking between the two other men. "I didn't wanna push him, y'know." 

Nodding in understanding, Mick returned his gaze to the table. "When I first went up there, he was injecting himself." He rubbed his eyes with his free hand, exhausted beyond belief. 

Vince cursed. "Well, can you blame him?" He said. 

The atmosphere in the room was tense, awkward, and saddened. But beneath it all, there was an undercurrent of rage. Vince couldn't stand still, and found himself pacing along the length of the kitchen while a frightening silence prevailed over all of them. 

Tommy opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. "Who did this?" He finally asked, a small tremor becoming evident in his voice. 

"If we knew, do you think I would be sitting here right now?" Vince snarled, but then the anger seemed to seep away as quickly as his previous happiness, and he faltered. "Sorry." He mumbled, picking at his nails. 

**9:20 AM**

Nikki knew that he couldn't sit there and fall into his dark thoughts like he usually did, but the temptation was there, and it was hard to resist. 

He had asked Tommy to leave, and as much as it hurt Nikki to see the younger man hesitate, there was nothing worse than knowing how truly destructive that he could be during these moments, and Nikki didn't want Tommy to see it. 

With all of that being said, Nikki found his fingers slowly trailing up his other arm like a spider taking its chances, and lightly trailing around the mist recent track mark. 

**9:21 AM**

"I don't care what you're going to tell me, Mick." Vince said, determined beyond whatever words might come next. "I'm going to find him, and feed him his own balls." 

Tommy paled. 

Meanwhile, Mick just held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Let's not get crazy." He said, trying to keep some sort of peace. "How are you even going to find him without asking Nikki?" 

"I don't know!" Vince yelled. 

Mick grabbed the bag of peas, stood up, and tossed it back to the freezer, giving himself a chance to gather his thoughts. For a moment, Mick stood there, trying to calm his frayed nerves. "Okay." He said softly. "Okay, so you're going to find the guy - you are **_not_** going to kill him." Mick paused, and then shook his head. "I can't believe that I just had to said that." 

"I'm not going to kill him." Vince said in a calm tone that defied the rather wild look in his eyes. "I'm just going to make him wish he was dead." 

**9:22 AM**

Nikki dug his finger into the marks. 

Blood welled up and ran down his forearms in a stream, dripping down onto the blanket. Nikki didn't give a damn about the sharp burn that came as result, nor about the blood as it stained the blanket in small drops of red that seemed almost black. 

_Mick...Mick...what's Mick going to think?_

_He's disgusted at you, and rightly so._

_Look at you!_

Sucking in a desperate breathe, Nikki wiped away the blood and watched as it smeared onto his arm. He hadn't done such a thing for years, ever since he was a fucked-up teenager with nothing better to do, and Nikki didn't even know why he was doing it at that moment, only that it made him feel better, if only temporarily. 

_Mick hates you._

_He could barely stand to look at you._

_Whore._

Nikki dug his fingers once again into the marks, drawing more blood. 

_Poor Little Frankie....._

_Weak...._

_You deserved it. It was all your fault._

**9:25 AM**

"Whatever, okay?" Mick stood up. "I can't talk about this anymore." 

Vince nodded, brushing away strands of his hair. "Okay." He agreed, folding his hands diplomatically, and then untangling them so he could press them against the table. "I need to go take a walk, clear my head." 

The tension in the room had reached an all-time high, and Tommy was fidgeting constantly, his mind racing with thoughts, memories from the night before, and the hopeless look in his twin's eyes just a few minutes ago. 

"You do that." Mick sighed, and his eyes landed on Tommy, concerned and worried, begrudgingly fearful as to what would come next. 

Tommy pressed his lips tightly together in a thin line. "What if he hates me?" He asked quietly, like it was some forbidden question that shouldn't have ever come into existence. 

Startled, Mick frowned. "Who? _Nikki?_ Why would he hate you?" 

"Well..." Tommy looked down. "I should've been there with him, right by his side." 

**9:27 AM**

Blood. 

_'Holy shit, that's a lot of blood.'_

**9:26 AM**

Mick stood up, and crossed the distance in a few easy strides. "Don't blame yourself, drummer. The only one who should be feeling guilty is whoever did this stupid shit." He said, reaching out and placing his hand on Tommy's shoulder, hoping that the touch would reassure him somewhat. 

"But -" Tommy swallowed past his anxiety, his anger, his fear. "Mick, he asked me to stay with him! Back when we were in the car, remember? But I didn't!" Tommy felt like crying and throwing up simultaneously, sickened by the previous events and still recalling how absolutely horrible Nikki had looked on that bed, so pale. 

"Shut up, okay?" Mick splayed his hands. "You didn't, okay? It was a mistake but you couldn't have known what was going to happen, drummer! So, listen to me and listen to me good." Mick grabbed Tommy by the lapels of his jacket and pressed him again the wall. 

Tommy went easily, his eyebrows furrowed deeply. 

"What happened is going to stay with all of us for the rest of our goddamn lives, and that's a fact." Mick said in a low voice. "Vince is probably going to go out and play Sherlock-fucking-Holmes, and I'm about to go and try to make sure that Nik doesn't fall into a dark, dark hole that I won't be able to get him out of. You have a few choices, Tommy, but you, for the sake of everybody here, cannot blame yourself, understand?"

Opening his mouth, Tommy was about to say something, _anything,_ but he was beaten to the punch. 

"Don't be a fucking teenager. Not right now." Mick sounded like he was about to start pleading. There was a keen desperation in his dark eyes that scared Tommy, but it also solidified each and every word. "I need you right now, _please._ If not for me or Vince or, hell, even yourself, then do it for Nikki." 

Tommy didn't know what to say, and the lack of words seemed to reassure Mick of whatever might've been going through his head. 

Nodding slowly, Tommy managed to grab the thoughts, guilt-ridden and sad, and toss them into the darkest corners of his mind where nobody, not even himself, could find them. It was there, in the black darkness, where those thoughts would stay. 

And rot. 

And be forgotten. 

"Okay." Tommy whispered. 

Mick smiled weakly. "Thank you, drummer." 

**9:30 AM**

Luckily, the marks weren't deep. 

Nikki was able to cover them up easily with his sleeves, and then he sat back down, listening to the silence. A few moments before, Vince had been yelling, but then he'd quieted down, and now only silence prevailed in this dark and crumbling house. 

In the darkest corners of the house, ghosts lingered. 

And so did demons. 


	9. Chapter 9

**10:03 AM**

Vince was on a mission, and be damned what Mick thought, _this_ was what Vince needed to do. 

He didn't quite know how he was going to go about this, but Vince did know that he was angry, and that there was no mercy for rapists. 

' _Fuck 'em all.'_ Vince thought as he walked down the street, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, teeth grit together in anger. He was headed back down to the house, hoping that maybe, just maybe, somebody could provide answers for his questions. Surely, somebody there knew this guy, but Vince knew it would be hard because he didn't have a name, and didn't even know what the guy looked like, so he was essentially looking for a needle in a shiny haystack. 

The party had been hosted by some guy who was only still alive because of his parents' money, otherwise he would've already been dead on the streets from either the drugs, or somebody having killed him. Vince didn't even like the kid, but he and Tommy were best friends, and, well, the kid had good drugs. 

Vince knocked on the door and shifted uncomfortably, looking around the derelict neighborhood. He could hear the door locks slide out of place, and one of the curtains moved, as if somebody was peaking out of the window.

"Hey, man!" Mitch practically yelled, spreading his arms wide in the air. "I didn't think I'd be seeing you so soon." He grinned, but then he noticed the rather grim look on Vince's face, and the happiness faded, if only slightly. 

"Hi." Vince said shortly, hands in his pockets, trying to blink away the memories of the night before. "Listen, I need to ask you something, and it's important, Mitch, so I need you to answer truthfully." 

Mitch scowled, stepping back slightly. "I didn't do nothing, man." He said defensively, and immediately, Vince felt his suspicion rise. 

**10:10 AM**

Mick stared down at his knuckles, and sighed, curling his fingers into a fist. 

"Damn it." Mick breathed out, pressing his bruised hand against his mouth, looking out the window as a car passed by. He was contemplating silently to himself, unable to go upstairs and face Nikki again, and unable to find the courage to do anything else. Vince had gone off to go find whoever had done this, and it was making Mick wordy endlessly about what he might do. 

Tommy had disappeared back into his room, and Mick didn't blame him, because he surely wasn't a very pleasant person to be around at that moment. 

Truth be told, Mick didn't give a single damn what happened to the man who had done all of this, but his main concern was Vince, and how the guilt would eat him alive if he did something permanent. 

' _Just another think to worry about.'_ Mick figured. 

It wasn't like he already didn't have enough on his plate already. 

The phone began to ring. 

**10:05 AM**

"What do you want, man?" Mitch said, a sick sort of desperation beginning to overwhelm him. 

Vince held up his hands. "I just want to ask a few questions." He said calmly, watching the younger man with narrowed eyes. 

"You're a cop, now?" Mitch was starting to look erratic. 

"Look -" Vince broke off, and he sighed. He didn't know what he was doing, and was just running off of assumptions of what would work. "Okay, listen, something really fucking terrible has happened. I need to know who did it. Okay?" 

From his place beyond the threshold, Mitch looked confused. "But why?" He asked. 

"None of your goddamn business!" Vince yelled, before forcing himself to calm down. Losing his temper wouldn't help anybody, especially the one person that needed it the most. "I'm sorry. I need you to help me, Mitch. _Please."_ He felt close to begging now, and as much as it angered him, nothing could be done. 

Mitch stared at him for a long moment, and then he, albeit a little reluctantly, moved aside. "Fine. Come in." He said. 

**10:01 AM**

Picking up the telephone, Mick had no idea who would be on the other side, but only just wanted to get it done and over with already. "Yes?" He said patiently. 

"Hello?" A woman said, her voice unfamiliar, but a creeping chill making itself known on Mick's spine, making him shiver. "Hello, who is this?" The woman asked, sounding quite confused. 

"This is Mick Mars." Mick said, beginning to feel rather suspicious of the woman on the other end. "Who are you?" He leaned against the wall and awaited some sort of response. He fully expected it to be one of Doc's assistants or somebody stupid like that, nobody who was worth his time, especially not now. 

The woman made a surprised noise. "My name is Deanna Richards. I don't know if you know me -" 

Except Mick did recognize her, and had to resist the urge just to slam the telephone down and walk away. "What do you want?" He snapped, suddenly alert and hoping more than anything that Nikki didn't decide to pick up the telephone for any reasons whatsoever. Nikki didn't talk a lot about his mother, but Mick knew enough to not want to have any association with the woman in any way, shape, or form. 

"Well, I was just calling to talk to Frank. It was very hard to get this phone number, you know." Deanna said, sounding more than a little offended by the tone and words that Mick was throwing at her. 

"As it should've been." Mick carefully peered up the stairs, but Nikki was nowhere in sight. "Look, F - Nikki doesn't need you in his life, so just stop trying." He deliberately lowered his voice into a hushed whisper, but the anger was still there, simmering like boiling water. 

"Put my son on the phone." Deanna said. "I need to ask him something, and you have no - _none -_ right to speak to me this way." 

"You have no right to speak to Nikki, so stop trying to bother. He won't lend you any money, you know that full and well." Mick was pleased to hear the stunned silence. "Don't call again." He warned, before slamming the telephone back on its cradle. 

**10:07 AM**

The house was still dirty from the aftereffects of the party, with all sorts of trash strewn across the floor, and a few stragglers still lingering behind. 

Mitch guided Vince into the kitchen, and motioned for the older man to sit down at the table. However, Vince didn't want to let Mitch be the one standing tall during the conversation, and so he remained standing, leaning against the threshold of the door. 

"So, uh, what did you wanna ask me?" Mitch asked awkwardly, grabbing a nearby trash bag and using it to toss trash in. He was still slurring his words slightly, so it was clear that he was still drunk from all of the drinking the night before. 

Vince leaned back slightly. "So, I was wondering if maybe you saw somebody talking to or - lingering, I guess, around Nikki last night." He wasn't quite sure how to say it, and hoped that Mitch didn't ask for more details.

The truth about what had happened needed to remain a secret. 

Mitch frowned. "Nikki?" He repeated, sounding confused. 

"Yes, Nikki." Vince said, a little irritated, but the confusion remained in Mitch's eyes, and Vince had to resist the urge to bang his head against the wall in pure frustration. "Tall, skinny, black hair, green eyes? The bassist?" 

It all clicked into place, and Mitch opened his mouth and nodded in understanding. "Oh, yeah. _Nikki._ Well, I saw Clyde hanging around him near the couch, but I don't understand, Vince. What happened?" Mitch looked concerned. 

Vince shook his head. "You know that I can't tell you that." He said, but the name was a start, surely. "Who's Clyde?" He asked. 

Immediately, a sense of unease overtook Vince, and he was startled by it, but not entirely shocked. 

"A dealer friend of mine." Mitch replied without a moment's hesitation. "Country boy with a chip on his shoulder." He motioned in the air vaguely. "Came over here and started chatting it up with Nikki, I guess. But I left, didn't see much. Listen, Vince, you're starting to really freak me out." 

With a small, short nod, Vince sighed, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. He had no way of knowing, but there was a certainty, deep within himself, that Clyde was the man he was looking for. 

But Vince had no way knowing it, nor proving it. 

"Is there any way I can get into contact?" Vince asked. 

Mitch looked suspicious, but he had no real reason to refuse. "I can get you his phone number." He said. 

"Yeah. I'd appreciate that." Vince said. 

**10:04 AM**

With Nikki in mind, Mick climbed the stairs, figuring that the younger man, with his history of self-destructiveness, couldn't be left alone for too long, no matter how much Nikki yearned for the solitude. 

The room felt oddly small and cramped, as if it'd shrunk in the last hour or so. A small part of Mick wondered if it was truly his imagination, which was ridiculous, but yet - here they were. 

Nikki was still sitting on the bed, but there was something different about the gaze in his eyes that made Mick's heart wrench. 

"Hi, Nik." Mick said quietly, closing the door halfway and sitting down on the chair, hands folded diplomatically on his knees. He could feel the tension, and it was so thick that it could easily be cut with a knife. 

Nikki licked his lips, hunching toward until his hair could fully cover his face, one of of his hands curled tightly around his arm. "What did my mother want?" He asked. 


	10. Chapter 10

**10:06 AM**

Tommy fell onto the hard ground. 

He yelped as he fell into the dead bushes that lined the property, small little thorns jabbing into his skin. Tommy couldn't actually say that it was his most intelligent move ever, but he didn't want to be caught by Mick as he made the grand escape, and going through the window had seemed like the most reasonable decision. 

Evidently, it wasn't. 

Tommy rolled away from the bushes and winced as he held up one of his hands and saw tiny splinters that had slipped into his skin. He frowned, looking back towards the window. And then, with a sigh that seemed to come from deep within his chest, Tommy pushed himself up. 

If Mick had been upstairs the whole time, and Tommy had made his escape through the window for nothing, then he would be pissed. 

**10:11 AM**

"The guy is a major red flag. Like, if I had a daughter and she started dating him, I would lock her up in her room just so they couldn't see each other." Mitch said as he dug through his jacket. 

Vince really wished that Mitch would just shut up so he could get the number and leave. "Yeah." He said noncommittally, watching as Mitch then walked away into the adjoining room so that he could flip through a small book that was sitting on a table. 

Mitch ripped a paper from the book. "Listen, whatever the guy got into, man - just give him a good, hard wack over the head for me, yeah?" 

_'I'll give him more than a hit over the head.'_ Vince thought. But he just smiled weakly, and nodded. "Sure, man." He agreed, taking the paper from Mitch when it was offered. 

There was a number written onto the top line of the paper, one that, as Vince slowly realized, was somewhat familiar. 

But his mind was too hazy for the distinction to register. 

"Thanks." Vince said, turning around and quickly making his exit, eager to leave this house once and for all. 

Mitch waved. "See you later!" 

**10:05 AM**

Mick didn't know what to say. 

The truth? A lie? Some sort of combination of the two? Either one could make or break the fragile truce that lay between them. 

And, with that thought, white-hot anger washed over Mick like a tidal wave, leaving him breathless. He hated Deanna Richards with all of his body, but most of all, he hated whoever had done this, and for the first time all day, he wanted for nothing more than for Vince to find the motherfucker and just - 

Mick grit his teeth hard enough to make his jaw hurt, and banished those thoughts from his mind. 

Now wasn't the time. 

"She, um- wanted to talk to you." Mick said. 

Nikki looked up. "About money." It wasn't a question. 

More anger, more rage, that Mick fought back against. God, he wished he had said something to that woman, but he needed to remain civil, calm. "Yes." He confirmed. 

Something unspoken flashed in Nikki's eyes, and he looked back down at his knees. 

Mick sighed heavily, and sat down on the edge of the bed, hands folded on his lap, trying to keep the peace as the world fell apart. "I'm sorry, Nik." He said. "Just don't think about her." 

"Don't say sorry." Nikki muttered, rubbing at the gauze around his wrist. 

It was at that moment that Mick saw small, barely-noticeable cuts on the pale, soft inner skin on Nikki's arm, right near the track marks. 

No, the cuts were _on top_ of the track marks. 

Mick was automatically on alert, his eyes stuck on the circular indentations that were so small, that it was a wonder he'd even been able to see them, especially with how far away they were from each other. 

"What are those?" Mick asked, and Nikki flushed, looking down at his arms with feigned surprise that didn't seem natural nor real. 

It was at that moment that Mick thanked whatever higher power that existed that Nikki wasn't a good actor. 

"What'd you do to yourself?" Mick stood up, but his mind was already producing the answers. 

Shrinking back into himself, Nikki pulled his sleeves back down. "It isn't any of your business." He said. 

Mick blinked. " _What?"_ He said, incredulous, wondering if he had heard the younger man correctly, or if his hearing was starting to go, too. He wouldn't be surprised, anyways. "Yes, it is my business." He walked across the room and paused in front of the bed, carefully searching Nikki's face for emotion. 

There was none, and it shouldn't have been so terrifying, except it was, and Mick hated it. 

He needed emotion, but Nikki had already put up his wall. 

**10:10 AM**

Logically, Tommy knew that he couldn't wallow in self-pity for the rest of his life.

He needed to do something useful, _anything,_ and as Tommy picked splinters from his skin and walked down the sidewalk, the possibilities became very, very clear. 

Mick was right - Tommy had to step up his game. 

Although he still felt guilty for not bring there, for not paying more attention to where his twin was, there was nothing more that could be done.

It was hard to remember the directions, because he was, after all, still a little hungover, but Tommy was somehow able to find himself on the right street, and as he cursed himself for not grabbing the car keys, he glanced at the houses. 

Truth be told, Tommy hadn't really paid much attention to the house, but his memory was instinctive, and something told him to keep walking. 

"Hey, Tom!" An eerily familiar voice shouted, and Tommy looked up to see Vince on the other side of the street, clutching a crumbled piece of yellowed paper in one of his hands. 

"Vince? What are you doing here?" Tommy asked when Vince approached, dry, dead leaves crumbled in his blonde hair. 

For once, that damned primadonna didn't care about his looks. 

"What does it look like?" Vince said, but he didn't sound particularly angry. "I got the number of some guy from Mitch." Vince gave Tommy the paper. "The guy's name is Clyde, and he sounds _prett-ee_ suspicious if you ask me." 

Tommy wasn't sure if he should've felt relieved or not. On one hand, Vince might've found the stupid, sadistic son of a bitch that'd done all of this, but on the other hand, what if this wasn't the guy? 

But this was for Nikki, and Tommy was entirely willing to hunt this guy down if it meant revenge.

"Clyde's a suspicious sounding name." Tommy said for lack of anything better to say. 

Vince smirked. "Yeah, well. We have to tread carefully, because we don't know for sure, but I got this gut feeling, man." He nodded, maybe to himself, or maybe to Tommy. "He's the guy, _I just know it."_

Tommy nodded along, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets as a slight chill crept through the air. "So, what are we gonna do about it?" 

**10:06 AM**

Mick didn't know what to do. 

God, why couldn't life stop throwing its punches? 

Looking down, Mick stared at the cuts, which were nothing compared to the other injuries, but _still._

"I'm sorry." Nikki said, his voice edged with sharpness. 

But that was just Nikki - he was a piece of broken glass, and anybody who came close to him risked getting cut. 

It was dangerous to associate with him, dangerous to even think of those eyes and smile. 

But Mick proved himself every day by risking getting cut.

"It's not your fault." 

**11:25 AM**

The television was on, and it's bright light was shining in the dark room. 

Slowly rolling over and reaching toward the nightstand, Clyde grabbed the magazine and held it above his face. It was a rock magazine, the sort that was sold at record shops for obscene amounts of money, but it was worth all the trouble. 

On one of the pages, Nikki Sixx was staring straight at the camera, smirking, his arms crossed, staring at the camera with a silent threat in his eyes, as if tempting it. 

Clyde had enjoyed making that smug little bastard cry. He had enjoyed hearing him scream until, eventually, his vocals chords had given out and all he could do was sob into the mattress. Nikki Sixx, who always acted so strong and cruel, had been taken down several notches, and Clyde had enjoyed every second of that night. 

He had enjoyed making Nikki Sixx bleed. 


End file.
